


Slave to the Starks

by Mmmph



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mmmph/pseuds/Mmmph
Summary: Takes place just before the second to last episode of Game of Thrones. Alternate Timeline. After a prescient vision from Bran, the Starks realize that Daenerys is, in fact, destined to turn into the Mad Queen. In a secret plot to prevent this, Arya is sent to capture the woman and bring her back to Winterfell, where she will spend the rest of her days as their slave.





	1. Chapter 1

She lay sprawled atop her bed, half tangled in sheets. She’d been tossing and turning half the night and, with so much on her mind and the looming siege to come, was sure she’d be doing likewise the rest of it. She curled her fists to balls and pounded the bedding before sitting up abruptly and scowling out the lightly billowing tent flaps. 

Daenerys rose from bed and stomped outside, the soles of her bare feet going icy the moment they made contact with the ground outside. She ignored it, standing there with her night gown fluttering about her otherwise naked figure as she looked over the campgrounds they’d erected outside King’s Landing. Everything was calm, still. Faintly, she could see torches burning on the ramparts of the city she was to sack… if it would not concede defeat to her tomorrow morning, that was.

West of her tent, Drogon’s imposing figure slumbered in a curled ball of scales and talons and wings. She considered going to him, taking a night ride amidst the clouds. That always helped her ease down for a good sleep… and yet, there was something strange about the dragon on this night. His breaths seem particularly labored as he stirred but did not rise and…

There was movement behind her, but before Daenerys could so much as consider what to do about it, she was taken hold of. She gasped as an arm wrapped her torso, pinning her arms down. Another appeared before her eyes brandishing a fine dagger that glinted balefully in moonlight. 

“Scream, and it will be your last.”

She swallowed, nodded, and was taken trembling back into her tent before being flung down upon the bed. Dany gathered her gown around her and curled into a ball herself, much like Drogon, to stare up at her assailant.

“…you!?”

“Me.” Arya Stark stood at the end of the bed garbed in black leather, her brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, the dagger she’d threatened Dany with tucked back into a sheath along her belt. The short Stark girl drew a length of rope from the pocket of her vest and pulled it taught. “Change of plans, my _Queen_.”

“Change of…” Dany’s surprise was melding into anger as she narrowed her furious gaze up at the girl. “What is the meaning of this!? How did you get-”

“Quiet,” Arya said, and though the girl was short and calm… her commands carried weight. 

Daenerys swallowed, hugging her gown a bit tighter around her.

“My brother Bran,” Arya began quietly. “He’s… changed now. I’m sure you’re aware. He sees things. Can go places. Look into the past and sometimes even… see the future. And, as it turns out, he’s seen yours, Daenerys Targaryen. And it isn’t good. For anyone.”

Dany’s eyes blossomed. “What are you talking about!? If you think for one moment you’ll talk me out of taking _my_ throne tomorrow…”

“No, I’m not thinking that. You’ll never give up your conquest. Bran has seen that much. You won’t stop till everything is in ruins, in fact. You’ll torch the city, slaughter thousands of innocents, and your madness will imprison your Hand and… set my brother to killing you.”

“Your broth… _Jon_!?” Dany shrieked, her heart racing now. “Jon would… never! He… what sort of game is this!?”

Arya shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me. That’s why I snuck here in the middle of the night. My family has other plans for you, you see. Instead of the Mad Queen… you’re to be a Stark slave. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Slave!?”

“You heard me,” Arya said, advancing a step with the rope pulled taught between her gloves hands. “Bran has sent message only a little while ago. If I hadn’t decided to stop in to see what your camp was up to, I might’ve never gotten it. But I did. And now I’m here to steal you.” She leaned down, readying a loop in the rope. “So keep quiet.”

“I will not! You won’t take my throne from me you- _oof_!” Before she could protest any further, Arya had snatched her wrist and twisted it till Dany had no choice but to roll onto her belly. She felt her hands being wrestled together and then wound in rope, tighter and tighter, her fingers wiggling uselessly as she was bound. The Stark girl hopped onto her legs and Dany’s feet were forced together too, her ankles wrapped and bound just as her hands has been.

“Do you think Drogon will allow my captivity, you fool!” Dany shrieked as Arya dismounted and drew a long black cloth from her pocket. “I am his _mother_! He will scorch you till you’re nothing but ashes!”

“I agree,” Arya said cooly. “Which is why my brother Bran has taken him over tonight to ensure he has a long and unbroken sleep.” She smiled. “Now open your big mouth so I can shut it up for you.”

“What!? You…” The cloth was shoved forcefully into Dany’s opened lips. She bit down on it a fury as the Stark girl gagged her tightly with it, knotting it behind her head. Her wide eyes, she was sure, were filled with fire and loathing as she stared at her captor. “Ymmn cmnd dmn thnnff!” She growled around her gag, but the cloth worked wonders at keeping her both quiet and incomprehensible.

“Shhhhh,” Arya hushed her with a grin. “I have to wrap you up now. Stay still.”

And then Dany was being wrapped in her own bedsheets. They circled and bound her from ankles to shoulders in an ever-tightening cocoon till she couldn’t budge and was reduced now to a head and a pair of wiggling feet. She’d never been so outraged in her life as she glared daggers at Arya and squirmed as hard as she could. Arya, impervious, it seemed, to any of this, simply grabbed hold of her around the midsection and hoisted Daenerys up onto her shoulder. 

“Mmm! Mmm!” Dany protested till Arya’s hand drove hard against her bottom.

“Quiet!”

Dany did go quiet, but more out of indignation than obedience. Did she just get… _spanked_!?!?

Arya put her on horseback. With her feet and legs bound together, she had to be set sideways on the saddle, but when the Stark girl mounted up herself and pulled Dany’s body tight against her own, she knew she was secure. She couldn’t fall off, and she certainly wasn’t going to be escaping, wrapped, held, bound, gagged… Dany had never felt so utterly helpless before. 

Arya dug her heels into the horse’s side and got them off at a gallop. Daenerys’ wide eyes searched desperately for aid: one of her warriors, Grey Worm, Jon, someone! But as they rode back around the campsite and the battle lines and steered down a sloping piece of valley leading to a wooded trail, the truth smacked Dany hard and cold in the face: it was successful. She’d just been kidnapped the night before the biggest victory of her life, the one she’d been fighting towards for the last few years. Bitterly, she turned a sneer on Arya, who, after fishing about in her vest again a moment, simply put a bag over her head, blinding her in a world of darkness. 

The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, bundled up as she was. The night was quiet and only the horse hooves and the wind could be heard muffled beyond the inside of her suffocating bag. Dany fidgeted from time to time, but Arya would squeeze her tighter, reminding her not to try anything. Were here mouth not secured with a gag, she would have filled the Stark girl’s ears with threats and warning and titles and… and all of that was useless now. 

With every gallop, Dany felt the iron throne falling further and further away from her. She was losing her destiny. She was losing her birthright. And it was all because of _Starks_. That frigid bitch up North… Sansa. Her wild younger sister. Even Jon, whether he called himself ‘Snow’ or ‘Targaryen’, when it came right down to it, he acted only like a bloody _Stark_! She hated them all! Loathed their cold lands and their banner and their stupid honor and…

The horse slowed and Daenerys was abruptly hoisted over a shoulder. She grunted her displeasure as she was carried somewhere and sat against, what she assumed, was a tree. Ropes bound her to it and then the Stark girl must’ve been setting up a campfire or something, for she heard a slew of noises before the bag was pulled from her head.

She blinked when finally freed of the musty thing. Her prediction was correct: a little campfire in a circle of stones had been erected, and Arya was knelt beside it, carefully tending to a few twigs to ensure they caught. The warmth was nice for Dany, especially on the bottoms of her bare feet, which were stretched before her, legs wrapped in sheet. She glared at the Stark girl, gag clenched humiliatingly between her teeth.

Arya noticed and glanced to her. She smiled.

“You should sleep. We can’t afford to rest here long, and tomorrow’s ride is going to be long and unbroken.”

“Mmrrf…” Dany grumbled, wiggling in her binds.

“Shush. Get used to all that. When I take you back to Winterfell, my sister has plans on how to keep you from ever acting on Bran’s vision of the future. You’re not going to be permitted to leave the castle grounds. And you’ll be kept in tight restraints.” Her smile broadened. “You’re not going anywhere once we have you.”

Dany felt her cheeks flush with color as she writhed again, shaking her head.

“Mmmmmph!”

“I said to keep quiet,” Arya warned her, tending to the fire again. “Save your mumbles for my sister. I’m sure she’ll get a thrill out of hearing them. You never shut up when you were our guest. Now, well, you’ve got no choice have you?”

Dany squinted.

“You’re a slave, Daenerys Targaryen. A slave to us Starks. And I’m sure we’ll find…” the girl’s eyes moved up and down her figure. “…good use for you. All of you.”

That was the last thing Arya Stark seemed to intend to say. She tended the fire quietly after that and left Daenerys to stew and fume in her forced silence. Eventually, she rested her head upon her shoulder and stared at the flames, watching them lash the dark sky as if they were erupting from Drogon’s snout. Fire and blood… that’s what her enemies would get. All of them. Even the Starks.

And it was with that thought she drifted into a light sleep with. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

For days they traveled the winding roads north. The more distance the Stark girl put between them and Dany’s army, sure to be scouring for her desperately at this very moment, the more relaxed she became. The sheets were unwound from Dany’s torso on the second day, and their occasional stops for resting, feasting, and drinking grew less hurried and more frequent. The Stark girl had even started relieving Dany of her gag for bits of time while she was fed and made to drink cool water from a flask. Of course, the moment Daenerys began trying to plead her case and make her accusations, the gag was reinserted firmly back in place. Arya seemed to enjoy shutting her mouth, and that only awoken the dragon within her more and more. 

They crossed through the now-frozen swamplands of the Reeds’ domain with Daenerys as free as she’d been since her capture. Her legs, unbound, swung loose over the sides of the saddle where she was mounted between Arya’s own legs. She watched her bare feet gliding over the patches of ice and mud bitterly, hating how powerless she felt. Of course, her hands were bound tightly in her lap and tethered to her waist, ensuring she could do nothing more than watch. She glanced over her shoulder, sneering at Arya but unable to do much else with the gag wedged tight between her teeth.

“Don’t give me that look or I’ll put the bag back over your head.”

“…hmnf.”

“Quiet.”

Arya adjusted around her and Dany felt herself pinched between the girl’s arms and legs, taking control of her. She wanted nothing more than to drive her elbow back into the foolish girl’s gut and take the wind out of her, but knew that act of defiance would only end with her wrapped up in even more and stricter bondage. She resolved to simply fume in silence as they wound through the forest for nearly the whole day before stopping at a clearing to make camp as the sun began to sink.

Arya was crouched beside the fire, Dany tied to a tree as per usual, when the raven swooped upon them and perched itself on a log, watching with its black eyes impatiently. Arya reached over and unwound a bit of parchment from its twig-like leg and unscrolled it to read. Dany watched as her eyes moved left to right quickly, down, and over again. Then she tossed it into the flames and together they saw it consumed into ash.

“We’ve taken King’s Landing.”

Dany’s brow raised and she wiggled in her ropes.

Arya looked to her. “Bran took control of Drogon and Jon led the siege. The fight was over in less than a day. And the city,” she said, narrowing her eyes deliberately back onto the flames, “still stands. No innocents were killed. No ‘Mad Queen’ had her glory of fire and blood.”

Dany’s fist curled so tight her nails dug into her palms. She wrestled with her binds and bit ferociously onto her gag, eyeing it with impatience.

“You want to speak?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Keep it down then,” Arya said and leaned over to yank the gag from her lips.

“Does it say if anyone was killed or hurt?” Daenerys said instantly. “Jon? Grey Worm? Drogon? How many casualties?”

“For our side? It sounds like very little. The Lannisters… not so much. Though the Queen and both her brothers are fine.”

“Tyrion…” Dany croaked, nearly forgetting her Hand. “Well, then, there you have it. The city has been taken. The war is over. Now _return_ me to my throne. It is mine to take! It is my birthright! And no mere girl will keep me from it!”

Arya appeared indifferent to the insult. “No. That’s not what Bran saw. Bran saw that once you sit the iron throne, your Targaryen blood will turn you into some wild monster. You’ll lust for power. For war.” She shook her head. “You can never be Queen.”

“Yes I _can_!” Daenerys threw herself against her ropes, wishing she had the strength of Drogon so she might break them apart. “You cannot keep me bound and captive! Jon needs me! Tyrion needs me! My unsullied need me!”

Arya shrugged. “They didn’t need you to take King’s Landing, did they?”

Daenerys glowered. “…how dare you.”

Arya grinned and leaned over to work the gag back into her mouth. “See? You’d be happy if this was about ‘winning’. I just told you we were victorious. And yet, all you can think about is how to get to your moment of triumph. Your precious throne. You _are_ the Mad Queen. Fortunately, we’re going to make sure that madness stays under our control.”

Daenerys was not permitted to speak again that night. She fell into a restless sleep and had wild, vivid, dreams of riding Drogon and burning, not King’s Landing, but Winterfell. Seeing all the Starks fleeing into the snows, sprinting north to be where their whole wretched lot belonged: amidst the wildlings. When she woke, it was to the steady clopping of hooves beating along the road north again and the infuriating pinch of Arya Stark’s arms around her. 

They rode all day and camped and then rode all day again. The journey from Winterfell to King’s Landing hadn’t seemed half as long as this miserable trek. Then again, most of it was spent with Jon and Drogon, riding the skies and the wind, free. Dany lost track of the days after a few more and just when she’d started to believe this was some cruel fate cast upon her by the Gods, to ride ever-north as a captive to this grating Stark girl and her smelly horse, the outline of castle Winterfell rose out of the horizon before them.

Daenerys posture stiffened and Arya seemed to feel it. She wrapped an arm around Dany’s belly and squeezed. “Calm down,” the girl commanded, as if Dany was nothing more than a wild animal in need of taming.

And, of course, there they were atop the castle ramparts, watching. Arya’s big sister, her vibrant red hair capped with a bit of snow, and beside her the girl’s crippled brother, who sat as serene and still as ever in his chair. Did Arya send message they’d arrive this morning? Or had Bran had another of his ‘visions’? 

They crossed the drawbridge and under the portcullis and drew up in the courtyard, where what few had stayed behind were gathered in various places, watching. Daenerys glared upon all them, swearing her vengeance to anyone who dared look at her in this humiliating state. Arya dismounted and hobbled the horse beside the stables before pulling Dany down and into her arms to set her upon the stone ground. Daenerys was taken by the arm, yanked into motion, and made to walk beside her as they strolled toward the center of the courtyard where Sansa and Bran had already made their way.

“I’m back,” Arya greeted with a little bow that seemed more playful than respectful.

“I see that.” Sansa’s voice was far more refined and dignified than her sister’s. It was clear she’d put in the time learning how to speak properly. Her posture was prim and stiff, her eyes that curious mix of both blue and green were narrowed shrewdly. “And I see you’ve also brought us a Mad Queen.”

Daenerys’ temper flared. She hated that title. She thrashed against Arya’s grip on her arm and sunk her teeth into her gag.

Sansa watched her calm enough, but the slightest hint of a smirk shaped her thin lips and Dany fumed in response.

“Well done, Arya. Bring this wild woman to her eastern tower. We’ve had her drawn a hot bath and prepared a meal. Perhaps more than she deserves, considering Bran’s vision, but what she’ll get nonetheless.”

Dany’s lips squirmed ferociously around the cloth between them. She wanted to shout this Stark woman down so badly she could taste it.

“It was for your own good,” Bran spoke, his voice droning in that insufferable way it had when she’d been here last. “It was… nothing personal.”

Daenerys squinted at him and hoped he could see by her look alone that she intended vengeance.

“Take her away, Arya,” Sansa commanded. “Her glares are starting to grate on me.”

The eastern tower was, in fact, prepared for her when they got there. Dany’s bindings were cut and then she was shoved into a circular room high atop it; the door slammed and locked behind her. She wrenched the gag out of her mouth and tossed it bitterly at the wood door and then screamed as loud as she could. 

She stomped to the room’s window, her bare feet pounding the stone so hard it hurt, but she didn’t care. She looked out upon the castle grounds and saw, with incredulity, there had been some sort of safety bars set against the outer wall to prevent jumping out. Did they expect her to take her own life!? Were they as foolish as they all looked!? She gripped the bars and shook them viciously but there was no give there. Her head snapped around and found the bath Sansa had spoken of steaming in the opposite corner. As much as she detested obeying a Stark order, the heat was an alluring idea after all that cold. 

She went to it and pulled the wool coat Arya had put around her for warmth off. Then she shed free of her flimsy nightgown, dirty and tattered now, and dipped a toe into the bath. It was hot; as hot as was fitting for a Targaryen. She climbed in, lowering herself graciously till the water bobbed just above her collarbone and her long silver-blond hair spread around her jawline like a flower. 

Heat encapsulated her. From the soles of her feet to her breasts and collarbone, it was like being dipped in the most wonderful fire; like Drogon’s fire. It awakened a desire in her to fight; to conquer these Starks and their cold lands. Her eyes flittered to the window and Daenerys clench her jaw resolutely. 

She was a prisoner for now, but no dragon could be kept chained for long. And then? The Starks would pay, starting with the one who she detested the most. Managing a smile for the first time in days, Dany rested her head against the bath rim and closed her eyes, thinking of how wonderful it would be to have Sansa bound and humiliated before her just as she’d been.

“Fire and blood…” Daenerys whispered, relaxing entirely then. 


	3. Chapter 3

At dawn the next day, Daenerys’ door was finally opened again. She sat quickly in bed, ready with her piecing gaze. She’d been up for some time by then, and the hot bath and feast last night as well as a long rest in a comfortable bed did nothing for her mood, her temper. Her nostrils flared when she saw it was the most insufferable one of them all who’d come for her.

Arya stood smiling with her hands behind her before the doorway. From around her back she threw a bundle of cloth to land at Dany’s feet. It was brown garb, a top and matching bottoms, and looked well-worn and slightly dirty. Daenerys sneered.

“Is this to be my clothing? Ill-fitting for a Queen.”

“It’s good I’m not speaking to a Queen then,” Arya retorted. “Dress.”

“I won’t.”

“You will, or I’ll march you naked to the grand hall.”

Daenerys gaped, watching Arya as if waiting for the end of the jest. When Arya simply stared back with that grating little smile, Dany threw back her sheets in a fury and snatched the ugly garb in her tense hands. She stuffed herself in them hastily, as if getting it done quickly could reduce the humiliation of having to do it at all. When she stood, looking herself over confirmed how poorly considered these ‘clothes’ were. The bottoms were loose, cling to her slim waist only by a drawstring, and they ended well before her ankles, dangling just atop her knees. The top fit better, but it was low cut and showed more of her than she’d have ever allowed. 

“You mean to embarrass me,” Dany accused the Stark girl with a glare. 

Arya shrugged.

“…and for my feet?”

“Bare, as befitting of a sla-”

“ _Don’t_ you say ‘slave’! Don’t you dare!”

“Fine. Befitting a…” Arya pursed her lips pensively. “A Mad Queen?”

Daenerys opened her mouth to shout the insinuation down but Arya raised a hand to cut her off. 

“Start screaming this early and you’ll be gagged again for the rest of the day. That’s orders from my sister Sansa herself, Queen of The North, and of Winterfell.”

“Queen of the North?” Dany echoed incredulously. “She has no right to such a title!”

“By words of King Jon Snow, she does.”

“King Jon Snow!?”

“Did you assume we were sieging King’s Landing to ask Cersei Lannister to be nicer?” Arya chuckled. “The city has fallen, the iron throne is won. Jon sits atop it. Your King now, as Sansa is your Queen while you’re here in the North.”

Daenerys head spun with all this information as Arya marched forth and produced a pair of shackles, dangling them impatiently at waist-height. Dany blinked and looked down upon them, rubbing her wrists as if they were already in bondage. 

“Is that necessary!? I’m unarmed and untrained! What do you expect me to-”

Arya rolled her eyes and shoved the shackles forth, clasping each of Daenerys’ slender pale wrists in the irons and sealing them shut. “I expect you to obey,” the girl muttered, turning and yanking Dany by the arm to make her follow.

“You’ll regret your treatment of me…” Daenerys grumbled, but she was as aware as Arya surely was that the threat, for now, carried no weight. 

She stumbled into the outside hall at the Stark girl’s side, taking hurried awkward steps to keep up, the cold stone underfoot sending a deep chill through the soles of her feet right up into her belly. Her hands had little slack and Arya marching pace and tight grip made it no easier. Twice she cursed the girl but her protests fell on deaf ears as she was taken and taken, down a long twist of stairs, through a hall, past another, and finally beneath a larch arcade of curved stone to the great hall of Winterfell.

Sansa sat on a throne at the room’s end. The sight of it awakened a tense outrage in Daenerys as the humiliating difference in them was apparent. Sansa Stark in a long gown of blue with a little crown perched atop her head, her chin raised haughtily, a room full of men sworn to defend and die for her; and Daenerys herself… chained and barefoot in ugly brown garb, led forth unwillingly at the hands of her captor.

“All kneel before Queen Sansa Stark,” Bran said from his chair at her right hand side.

Dany had no intention to kneel till she felt Arya kick the back of her legs and shove down on her shoulder. With a grunt she sunk to her knees and glanced bitterly sideways as the Stark girl fell next to her. The hall was silent a moment till Sansa bowed a bit and a smattering of applause filled the chamber. Right away, though, the ‘Queen’s’ vibrant eyes bore down upon Daenerys herself and their was that icy, commanding, look she’d so detested on her last visit here… when she’d help save the realm from the Night King.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Sansa addressed her, looking down the length of her thin nose. “You are here as prisoner of Winterfell for atrocities and betrayals you intended to commit against both us and your new king, Jon Snow. This is your trial. How do you defend yourself?”

Dany tried to stand, but Arya’s hand gripped her shoulder tight and made it clear she was to remain kneeling. That roused a fire in her as hot as any other. To kneel before this imposter Queen… disgraceful.

“You can’t hold me for things I haven’t done!” Daenerys wailed, jerking at her shackled hands. “This is… preposterous! I _saved_ your sad castle and all your lands from the Night King! I rode Drogon’s fire against your foes! And now… now, you _dare_ to steal me? To place me in bondage!? To humiliate me with this unjust ‘trial’!? I am your _Queen!_ Your rightful Queen, your only Queen! The iron throne is mine by both birthright and conquest! You cannot-”

“Birthright?” Sansa said with a subtle grin.

Daenerys glowered up at her. That’s right. She’d almost forgotten. The Starks knew about Jon… about his true heritage. She swallowed and pushed past anyway.

“It is mine,” she stated simply, eyeing the surrounding northmen and women with contempt. “It is mine, and you miserable northerners stole it from me! You’ll all burn for this! You betray you true Queen while that imposter sits on a liar’s throne!?”

“Silence your tongue,” Sansa commanded, a stern look masking her pretty face now. 

“Is the truth so hard to hear?” said Daenerys, grinning herself now. “That you are a pretender? Well you are. And if Jon truly has taken the iron throne, I assure you it is only to keep it warm for _me_! His love… his Queen.”

“Silence.”

“I took my throne as I took all my victories: with fire and blood! Do you think I won’t turn my wrath upon you for this treason? When Jon brings me Drogon…”

“Speak again and you’ll be _gagged_!” Sansa ordered and her voice carried surprisingly well through the hall, echoing off the walls with authority.

Daenerys only then closed her mouth, glancing at Arya, who she knew would love to shut her up again. Bitterly, she watched on.

“My brother Bran has visions of the future. Does anyone here deny it?”

None of the northerners made a sound. Daenerys rolled her eyes. Who would openly speak against their newly-crowned Queen so blatantly? This trial was a mockery of justice!

“And my brother’s visions have aided us numerous times, including… exposing threats.” Sansa’s icy eyes narrowed deliberately upon Dany. “The woman knelt before us is no ruler. The madness that lies dormant in all Targaryens, I assure you as Bran has seen, lies in her. And were she allowed to turn her dragon on King’s Landing… the madness would’ve awoke.”

“ _Lies_!” Daenerys wailed, a flush of color touching her cheeks as she made to stand. “You… you tell lies! I’ve done nothing! Nothing but save your realm! Your crippled brother is a charlatan! It was FIRE that saved the Wall, not a broken boy’s dreams!”

“Gag her!” Sansa roared.

“Fire that saved you all! Fire that you now dare to turn against! My vengeance will be-” her words were abruptly mangled as a thick leather pad of some sort was fasted against her mouth. She grunted and looked to see Arya affixing her face with some sort of… muzzle! As if for an animal! Her eyes widened and she tried writhing away but it was too late. The leather was tightly clung to her lips and jaw, ending just below her nose. She heard locks clinking into place behind her head.

“Mmmm!” She roared, reaching her shackled hands up to pry at it. It was no good: the muzzle was fastened too securely. “Mmm! _MMMM_!”

“The Mad Queen clearly can’t control her tongue,” Sansa said, “so it will be controlled for her. Any objections?”

Those gathered in the hall merely laughed and shook their heads. Daenerys glared at all of them, hating them, wishing she could breath fire and melt this embarrassing contraption off her mouth so she could make clear how dangerous their betrayal truly was.

“Good. Then I continue on,” Sansa said, casting her regal look down upon Dany again. “Your contributions against the Night King have not been forgotten. You will be well fed and protected here at Winterfell. Keeping you here will save you from both the madness of the Targaryen blood… as well as the retribution of the enemies you would’ve surely made had you been allowed to destroy King’s Landing.”

Daenerys’ lips squirmed against the leather sealing them.

“You are more than a prisoner, though. You are our slave. You will do our bidding, that is my sister Arya’s, my brother Bran’s, and of course my own. You will obey. You will behave. If you fail to, you will be punished. Is that clear?”

Dany squinted, fists trembling with outrage.

“Nod your head, prisoner. Is it _clear_?”

Daenerys glanced at Arya, at Bran, at the northmen and their weapons, at the cold solid walls, and finally at Sansa Stark herself. It took a great surge of willpower to make herself nod. Of course, the gesture meant nothing. She was no slave. She was the freer of slaves, the breaker of chains. Never would she accept slavery herself. Never!

“Good,” said Sansa with a nod. “Then I’ll call this trial to its end. I’ll explain more of your servitude tonight. Arya? Have her brought to my bed chambers after the sun’s set. Keep the muzzle on her.”

Daenerys’ eyes blossomed wide. She stared nonplussed at the red-headed imposter Queen before her. Bed chambers? Why would she be brought to bed chambers?

Arya grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand, dragging her back the way they’d come from. Dany blinked, turning to Arya and wishing she could ask that very question of the girl. Arya noticed her look and smirked, as if reading the question there in her eyes.

“Your slavery will include… all kinds of servitude.”

With that, she was whisked away back to her tower to be prepared for Sansa Stark upon nightfall. 


	4. Chapter 4

As night fell, a knock on her chamber door came as expected. Daenerys had been permitted to spend the rest of her day eating, drinking, bathing, and doing whatever else she could imagine locked in the top of her tower. But it was dark now, the moon high and silver beyond her window, and Arya Stark had come for her.

The girl, infuriatingly, held the leather muzzle between her hands and Dany sneered at it.

“I refuse,” she declared, crossing her arms.

Arya merely let out a breath of amusement from her nose and marched forward, snatching Daenerys before she could run, and shoving the muzzle against her lips anyway. The end were brought around back of her head and locked and once again, the dragon within her had been silenced. Dany’s eyes filled with wrath, but Arya only grabbed her at the arm and yanked her out of the room.

She was blindfolded for the trip, a loose cloth tied around her head to, presumably, keep her from getting familiar with all Winterfell’s various passages and secrets. She stumbled barefoot and blind over cold stone and wet grass and even snow at one point. They twisted and turned so much she grew dizzy, and then the trip finally came to an abrupt end and Daenerys was shoved forward and heard a heavy door shut and lock behind her.

She yanked the blindfold from her eyes and threw it aside.

Sansa Stark sat in a high chair beside a crackling hearth in her bed chamber. Daenerys glared at her, rooted to the spot defiantly. Sansa’s bright eyes turned from the flames to Dany herself and her expression was oddly placid. She seemed perfectly content to sit there quietly as long as it took for Daenerys to capitulate and come to her. For a moment, the two were locked in their silence battle; Dany’s, of course, against her will. Then, with a huff, Dany stormed over to the hearth and took the opposite seat from this imposter Queen who’d imprisoned her.

“Enjoying your stay so far?”

Dany’s eyes widened indignantly.

Sansa grinned. “You know, you have every reason to be happy right now. The war is over. Your side won. Jon sits the iron throne, Tyrion is his hand, Grey Worm survived the battle, Drogon flies free, unwounded. And yet… you sit there with your scowl and your anger… and I can’t help thinking you’ll never be satisfied till you take everything.”

Daenerys made a sound of frustration, then pointed impatiently at the muzzle adjoined to her lips.

“You have nothing to say I’d want to hear right now,” Sansa replied calmly. “Threats and warnings, most likely. None of which mean anything here. So you can sit there quietly and enjoy my company.”

“ _Mmnf_!” Daenerys huffed, stomping a foot and shaking her head.

Sansa ignored her. “I am Queen in the North now. And you… you are my captive, whether you like it or not. My slave, yes, I can see you thinking it. Perhaps when your mind is deemed in good health again, you may be freed. Perhaps. But for now, you have no other option but obedience to your Queen.”

Daenerys sat back in the chair, balling her fists to try and control her temper. This was torture, having to listen to this imposter prattle on about ‘obedience’ while she sat there muzzled like some common dog, unable to defend herself! 

Sansa smiled and sipped at a chalice, eyes returning to the flames. 

The two of them sat there quietly for a bit until Dany could no longer take it and shot out of her chair to pace around the room, her feet making little ‘slaps’ against the stone floor where the rugs ended. Sansa didn’t move, though, and after a while, Daenerys had nothing to do but to return to her seat and fix the woman with a pleading look, pointing again at her muzzle.

“If I remove that, are you going to behave yourself?”

Daenerys could not help the growl that rumbled from her throat.

“You can nod your head if you like. Or you can stay silenced.”

Slowly, and with a great amount of patience, Dany managed to make her head go up and down.

“Then come and kneel between my feet.” Sansa spread her legs and pointed at the rug below her. “Turn away from me and I’ll remove it.”

For a moment, Daenerys hesitated. This was another game, to put her in a position of submission at the woman’s feet. However, the desire to freely open her mouth at will was too strong a motivator. She begrudgingly clambered from her chair and did as Sansa said, only after shooting her a piercing glare. Kneeling with her back turned to the woman on the floor felt… wrong. It felt weak.

“Hold still if you don’t want your hair caught.” 

She felt Sansa’s slender fingers prodding around behind her, unclasping something, removing something else, then with great relief, the muzzle came loose and Dany reached up to pry it off her mouth.

“You-” But before she could say another word, Sansa had pulled her chin back and clamped a hand over her mouth. Dany grunted and tried writhing free, but in her awkward position, all she did was choke herself. Sansa’s grip remained firm, controlling her.

“Are you going to behave?” Sansa asked, tightening the clamp on Dany’s mouth, squeezing her cheeks.

Daenerys looked, upside down, into the terrible woman’s eyes and, though it burned her insides to do so, nodded. Just as soon, she was released, thrust down to the floor on her hands and knees.

“If that mouth runs, it _will_ be gagged again,” Sansa warned, crossing her legs calmly.

Dany crawled in a semi-circle to face the woman, huffing and red-faced. She thought of a dozen things she wanted to scream, but none that wouldn’t end with her lips sealed shut. So she sat a moment, hunched back on her knees and breathing heavy.

“You’ve humiliated me…” She finally croaked through barred teeth.

“I’m certain of it,” Sansa agreed.

“…I want to speak with Jon.”

“Jon has a newly-won kingdom to start cobbling back together. I’m sure you’ll understand he’s a bit busy at the moment.”

“Let me send him a raven.”

“No.”

The word was so foreign to Daenerys, she had to momentarily consider its meaning. When was the last time someone had told her ‘no’? She’d been ruling and conquering for so long… the sensation of being denied in such a blunt manner stunned her.

“No?”

“That’s right. You may not. What else would you like to request of me?”

“I demand it!”

Sansa laughed. “You demand much for a slave.”

“I am no slave!”

“And yet you’re kneeling at my feet, asking me permission for things, fearful I might have you chained and muzzled at any moment for acting up. Are you certain you’re no slave?”

Daenerys leapt to her feet. Sansa didn’t budge.

“You should fear me…” said Dany as she narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t.”

“Then you’re more a fool than you look. If you think…”

She trailed off as Sansa rose from the first time out of her chair, grabbed Dany’s wrists in her hands, and walked her back a few steps before thrusting her backwards. Daenerys yelped and tripped over her own feet as she landed sprawled atop the bed behind her.

“You’re no fighter,” Sansa explained, towering over her now. “Neither am I for that matter, but I’m from the North. We have a warrior’s spirit in our blood. And you… you hardly eat and you’ve been in and out of restraints for days now. In your current state? You’re… _pathetic_.”

“Pathetic!?” Dany roared, trying to recover as she clawed at the bedsheets to stand.

Sansa simply shoved her again and Daenerys flopped onto her side, looking up in shock.

“The truth is, I can do whatever I’d like with you. You’re weak and not of sound mind. Why do you think I didn’t post a guard in here with us? I knew I could handle you.”

So many emotions coursed through Dany’s being, it was almost too much. She was angry at this woman for her words, humiliated to realize some of the truth in them, ashamed she was not stronger, and… and one last feeling. One last feeling that unsettled her more than any others because she could not grasp why she was feeling it at all. A slight tension just below her belly… a flush to her skin… a quickening of her heart…

“Don’t,” Sansa warned, seeing, apparently, some plot scheming in Dany’s expression.

But she did. Overwhelmed with her flood of emotions and sensations, Dany lunged for the Stark woman in a fury. The attack was so sudden it nearly worked till Sansa got hold of her wrists again and wrestled with her. Together they locked momentarily until Sansa’s strength overwhelmed her and the two went tumbling back to the bed. Dany clawed for the long strands of that red hair tantalizing her but Sansa grabbed her at the shoulders and shoved her down. Before she could recover, Sansa had mounted her, pinned her beneath her weight, trapped her with her knees and long legs. 

“Arrgh!” Dany growled, kicking her feet wildly but to no avail.

“Calm down!” Sansa commanded, and her hand lightly slapped across Daenerys’ cheek. It wasn’t painful, just embarrassing.

“Get off of me!”

“No. I said calm down.”

“You… can’t… do this!”

“Shall I bind you to the bed!? I’ll tell you once more! Calm DOWN!”

But it was too late for that. The dragon within Daenerys had been woken, and once it had there was nothing on her mind but fire and blood. She thrashed and screamed, tossing herself every which way. Faintly, she heard a knock on the door and a voice asking if there was trouble. Everything was a blur then. She wiggled free and pounced like a feral dog but hands were on her, taking hold of her, wrestling her into submission. She felt her hands rake _some_ thing and hot blood was there, further stirring the dragon. Then she was being carried off, kicking and screaming back through the halls.

She didn’t come to her senses till she was back in her tower, but now this time, she was shoved down against her bed and pairs of restraints emerged from underneath. Her wrists and ankles were each locked up, holding her down and permitting her very small movements only. Furious, she tried biting a hand till it recoiled and then the guards were piling out of the room and locking her up inside it.

She lay panting atop the bed, tugging at her bound limbs, and in her mind she called to Drogon to come and burn and burn and burn. 

Then, at some point after her outburst had left her exhausted, she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It was only when the little hunched maesters arrived to force milk of the poppy down her throat that Daenerys slept a bit that next day. She’d spend the dawn hours of it thrashing and screaming, demanding freedom, warning of retribution. Her hands and feet were tied down to the bed, so it all did her little good, and when she was finally forced to swallow the bitter concoction of milk of the poppy, they had to hold her mouth shut until she drank it down instead of spitting it back out at them. 

From there, the day faded in and out. The only constant was the light coming from the tower window, settled across her bed and moving as the time passed from head to foot and then sinking out of sight. Everything was red and then purple and then dark and another maester came to light a single torch for her. By then, Dany had recovered enough to curse at the woman, who only offered a wan smile and quietly vanished as quick as she’d come. 

Not long after, Sansa Stark came to her.

“No…” Daenerys growled, sitting up the best she could. The restraints on her wrists kept her from doing much more than slouching forward. She tugged at them, hating how easily she’d been bound and subdued. She kicked her feet and the restraints on her ankles yanked her legs down in place. “Get out of here!”

“You do have fight in you, I’ll grant you that,” said Sansa, closing the door behind her and moving calmly to the bed. “Not many are still looking to argue after a dose of milk of the poppy, you know.”

“Untie me!” Daenerys demanded, flopping in place on the bed as she fought. “This is ridiculous to keep me bound! You have no right!”

“I’ve made it perfectly clear of your status here at Winterfell. I have the ‘right’ to do with you as I please. So stay your tongue or what I please may not be to your liking.”

Daenerys laid her head back against her pillow with a grunt. “I will not be kept in bondage.”

“No?” Sansa smiled and sat herself primly on the bed’s side. “You don’t seem to be doing a very good job of that so far.”

Dany’s hands instinctively made to grab at the woman’s gown and yank her close to bite or to scratch, but the restraints kept them where they were and her fingers only strained and then fell still. Her eyes burned as she stared at her captor. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course.”

“Why!?”

Sansa shrugged. “I’m Queen of the North. And I’m lonely.”

“You’re…!?” Daenerys brow furrowed as she studied the woman before her dubiously. “What game is this now?”

“You know, it’s true that I didn’t like you from the first time we met. I didn’t like how you looked at Jon or how he looked at you… or how your mouth ran on and on with your titles and your wars and your claims of grandeur.” Sansa shook her head. “But I also admired you, and perhaps even coveted you a bit, for what other woman in this world could know of the burden of ruling? Cersei Lannister, perhaps, but I’d rather not have a conversation with that woman.”

“Save your flattery,” Dany hissed, “I am not easily charmed.”

“Flattery? I was simply pointing out our similarities.”

“Point them elsewhere.”

“You don’t want to talk, I see…”

“With you?” Daenerys managed a mocking smirk. “I’d sooner take another swallow of milk of the poppy then sit here with _you_.”

“I see,” Sansa said, pulling a cloth from the bedside table. “I’ll gag you again then if you don’t wish to speak.”

“No!” Daenerys shouted, eyeing the cloth warily. “I’m tired of being gagged!”

“Then you’ll talk,” Sansa said sternly. “Or shall I…?” She leaned the cloth closer.

Dany twisted her head aside and leaned back. “Alright! You wicked bitch, alright!”

“Good.” Sansa set the cloth aside. “Then start talking.”

“What do you want me to say!?”

Sansa lifted her chin and that same haughty expression tensed her jawline.

“You can begin by calling me Queen.”

“…is that serious?”

“It is. You’re in my keep, in the lands I’ve been named ruler of. You haven’t said my title once, and by all rights, you should be addressing me properly with every breath. So I’d like you to say it now.”

Daenerys hesitated, twisting her lips as if trying to seal the word inside. Then, looking aside, she huffed, “Queen.”

“Queen who?”

Her eyes darted back and narrowed. “You’re quite petty…”

Sansa remained silent, waiting.

“Queen Sansa Stark,” Dany growled, barring her teeth.

“You can start addressing me as ‘my Queen’ from now on. Is that understood?”

“I will not!”

Calmly, Sansa reached for Dany’s chin and gripped it tightly between her thumb and fingers, holding her head steady as she leaned forward.

“You will, or you’ll be punished. Now say it, please.”

“This is-!”

“Say it,” Sansa interjected, tightening her grip.

“My Queen!” Daenerys shouted, jerking at her binds.

Sansa released her and sat back smiling. “You see? You can learn. You can behave.”

Dany fumed but held her tongue, fingers fidgeting as she thought. “May I be untied from this bed then… my _Queen_?”

“And what will you do if I untie you?”

“…behave.”

“Hmf. We’ll see.”

Sansa rose and went to the end of the bed. Her eyes held on Dany’s own as she lowered to start unclasping the binds on Dany’s feet. Daenerys stayed quiet, eager to move her legs about freely again, which she did at once when both restraints were removed. Sansa moved up the side of the bed and gave her a baleful glance before slowly removing the ones on Dany’s wrists as well. When the woman finished, Daenerys sat cradled in a ball, rubbing her wrists and curling her toes.

Without a word, she rose, watching Sansa carefully to see if the woman might stop her. When she hadn’t, Daenerys went to the room’s end and around a privacy curtain there to relieve herself. She cleaned up and then came from behind it again to start pacing the room impatiently, arms folded tight across her chest. The stone chilled the soles of her bare feet.

“My feet are cold,” Dany grumbled, looking out the tower window.

“Bring them here and I’ll warm them.”

She shot a glare over her shoulder and sneered. “Give me proper clothing!”

“No,” Sansa said plainly. “And I told you to address me properly.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes. “My feet are cold, my _Queen_. This garb is humiliating, my _Queen_. Dress me proper, my Queen, or swear by the Gods I’ll…”

“Mouth,” Sansa warned, hovering her hand over the cloth.

Dany shut her mouth and glowered instead. “I want to leave this tower.”

“For what reason?”

“To stretch my legs. I feel cramped in here. I want fresh air. I want-”

“You want a lot, for someone in captivity,” Sansa finished for her with a wry smile.

“Are you going to give me what I ask for or not… my Queen?”

Sansa stared at her. She was considering it, Daenerys knew, but like all those who were proficient at politics, she gave nothing away in that pretty sharp-featured face of hers as to what exactly she was thinking. Then the woman paced over, a good bit taller than Daenerys herself, especially in heeled boots, and looked down her nose at her.

“A walk around the parapets then. I’ll put boots on you so your precious feet don’t freeze solid. Is that sufficient?”

Hoping to hide her eagerness, Dany simply nodded once and then kept her eyes on the floor submissively. Sansa sighed and fetched the key ring from her bosom to unlock the chamber door. Surreptitiously, Daenerys’ eyes flicked to the key ring and she licked her lips. Then they were plugged into the door’s keyhole and freedom was swinging back on its rusted hinges; such a wonderful sound.

Dany shoved Sansa as hard as she could. The Stark ‘Queen’ was caught unawares and, as a result, went tumbling back, collided with a table beside the door, and spun down to land on her hands and knees. Daenerys yanked the key from the door, slipped through the narrow gap, and thrust it shut behind her. She plugged the outside hole and twisted, locking it up again behind her. Immediately, the handle was being worked at and a series of stiff pounds sounded from within.

“You fool!” Sansa’s muffled voice came from the other side. “Daenerys! Let me out of here right now!”

Dany yanked the key sideways, bending it into the keyhole. “That should hold you,” she said, patting the door and grinning wildly as she spun on her heel and darted down the hall, the sound of Sansa’s pounding playing lovely in her ears.

Her heart pounded as she took the corner and rounded down the stairs. For the first time since her abduction, she was thankful of having bare feet. They were nimble and quiet this way, and carried her deftly through Winterfell’s many twisted passages. Daenerys reached what she believed was the ground floor before spinning around a sharp turn and coming face-to-face with the courtyard. It was quiet and empty, a light snowfall drifting serenely in the moonlight. Across the way, two soldiers were stationed at the doors of the keep, but they were speaking to one another and hardly aware of any escapees in their midst. Dany crouched low and stayed to the outer trim of the yard as her feet crunched over frozen grass. She crawled over a waist-high wall and into another passage that wound down, she remembered, towards the main gates of the castle.

It wasn’t until she reached them that she paused to catch her wind, coming out of her in sharp blasts now, fogging the chilly night air. There were guards along the parapets above, and another handful at the gates themselves. With a sneer, she looked elsewhere for an escape route. There had to be a way! 

A narrow tunnel ran into the wall beside the gate and, sneaking low under the frost-capped bushes, Dany made her way into it. Her wide eyes surveyed the tight passage. A lit sconce down near the end flickered and filled her with some semblance of hope. She padded after it, glancing behind her, making sure she…

The light suddenly went out and Dany froze. When she turned around next, there was someone coming after her! With a gasp she spun and darted into the darkness, blindly groping the way forward with her hands, breath hot in her chest.

Then hands took her shoulders and guided her momentum forward and down and Daenerys went tumbling into a stack of hay. She coughed and felt the course hay jabbing at her arms as she rose and turned around, finding herself in the Winterfell stables.

Arya Stark stood there grinning.

“No…” Dany grimaced. “Not you.”

“What have you done with my sister?”

“…I’ve killed her.”

Arya laughed. “You’re a poor liar.”

Daenerys lurch forward to try and get by the girl, but Arya grabbed her around the waist and flung her back. This time, Dany went tumbling right over the hay and landed on the ground behind it on her back. Arya was there in a flash, holding her down.

“NO!” Dany wailed. “You… can’t… keep me here!”

But when she heard the thundering of many footsteps, the guards undoubtedly, she knew she’d been caught. Her escape attempt was over, extraordinarily unsuccessful. A slave to the Starks… she still was.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“She’s never going to behave,” Arya said, pacing the room back and forth. Her stride was short and deliberate; her hand rested on the sheath of her dagger. “Never, Sansa!”

“She will.” Sansa moved as well, though more slowly, more controlled. Her blue dress swirled around her booted feet as she turned her generous hips and glanced in Daenerys’ direction. “It’s just going to take time.”

Dany rolled her eyes.

“You know what Bran said,” Arya continued. “The Targaryen blood. It’s in her. What do you intend to do? Drain it from her body?”

“Don’t be so vulgar.”

“You have too much patience.”

“And you, not enough.”

“Mmmrrrff…” Daenerys growled, trying to get comfortable.

“Quiet,” the sisters told her together.

The three of them were in the Winterfell dungeons, nestled underground a layer or two deep in the soil and stone. The guards had dragged Daenerys down here after her escape attempt had been so cruelly foiled and held her clutched in their grips till Sansa was found and freed and stomped down to join them. Her expression at first was hard and tense, a look Dany was not unfamiliar with upon Jon Snow’s face from time to time when something was bothering at him. But as the ‘Queen’ of the North stared at Dany, kicking and fighting, her look softened and it was with regret, seemingly, she ordered her placed in the pillory.

Daenerys knelt uncomfortably in the device still. It was a simple contraption, Westerosi for sure given she’d never seen one quite like it in the East. Two planks of wood with three holes; one for each of her slender wrists and a third in the middle which they forced her head through before locking the halves in place. Her knees rested on a cushioned piece of wood adjoined to it, keeping her knelt down, bent over, and utterly humiliated.

“ _Mnf_!” Dany grunted. Of course, it hadn’t taken much of her protesting to earn herself another gag, this one in the form of a knotted cloth wedged between her teeth. Her eyes moved from sister to sister as the two bickered, wishing nothing more than to scream at both of them.

“You see?” said Arya, throwing up her hands. “She won’t be quiet even with a gag in her mouth! She’s… what’s the word for it? Mother used to call _me_ it…”

“Incorrigible,” Sansa said dryly.

Arya pointed. “That’s the one.”

“Yes, mother did call you that on occasion. And yet, you changed my little sister.” Sansa grinned.

“That’s… different.”

“Is it? I saw a hot-headed brat in you when we were little. I see the same in this one now.”

Daenerys scowled and wiggled so that the wood pieces ensnaring her head and hands trembled a bit.

Arya sighed. “You’re the Queen. And she’s your prisoner. So, really, what does anything I hav to say matter? I’m just letting you know, Sansa, next time? She might not just stop at locking you up and running off. And _I_ might not be there to catch her.” The younger Stark spun and made for the door, pausing with her hand on its handle. “Punish her, Sansa… before it’s too late.” And then she slipped out and was gone.

Sansa watched Dany a moment, shaking her head and tightening her lips like a disappointed mother. Then she marched over and wrestled the gag out of Daenerys’ mouth.

“If one more person gags me…” Dany grumbled as soon as she could.

“Perhaps you should consider not talking so much,” Sansa countered, crouching down so they could meet eyes. “That was a mean trick you pulled on me.”

“As mean as kidnapping a Queen in the middle of the night and whisking her halfway across Westeros to be kept a slave?”

Sansa actually laughed at that. “Perhaps not that mean… perhaps.”

“What happens to me now?” Daenerys asked. “Am I to be kept in the dungeons? Starved? Forgotten?”

“No, nothing like that. You’re _my_ prisoner. That means you’re under my protection.”

Dany fidgeted uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that at all.

“However, it also means it falls to me to find a suitable… punishment. You did lock up a Queen, you know.”

“Your little sister was right. I’ll do worse next time.”

“You’ve never learned when to keep your mouth shut, have you?”

“I’ve never had to.” But as she said those words, she thought back to being across the seas, when her big brother had still been alive and she’d been nothing more than a meek little treasure to be traded for Dothraki allegiance. She was quiet then… she was obedient.

“What are you thinking about?” Sansa asked, eyes narrowed shrewdly.

Dany scoffed. “How to escape again.”

“You tell so many lies…”

“As do you.”

Sansa stood and Dany had to work her head back as much as she could to follow the woman’s eyeline upwards. “I’m going to punish you now. You’ve brought it on yourself.”

Daenerys tried thinking of something witty to say, something Tyrion might say, but her mouth was suddenly dry and she found herself swallowing and fidgeting as Sansa stared at her, nodded her head, and disappeared around back of the pillory. Dany at once became aware of how exposed the rest of her was. Her head was forced on this side of the wood, meaning she could not look behind her, could not see what was happening. Sansa moved somewhere and her dress brushed the soles of Dany’s feet.

“Surely you’re not going to tickle me as ‘punishment’,” she said, trying to laugh in mockery but coming up short as her voice broke nervously. 

“No. Something a bit more… fitting for you, I think.”

Dany swallowed and tensed. Her hands balled to fists at either side of her head and shook the pillory around her. “Let me out of this thing…” She demanded. “You can’t keep me in here…”

“Our stable master used to use these on the horses. I found the act incredibly cruel. One day I begged my father to make the man stop and he did. But he never disposed of the device itself.”

Sansa walked to the front of the pillory and something dark and leather dangled from her hands. It had a handle and a long coil and then, at the tip, a series of braided leather tassels.

“…you’re going to beat me…” Daenerys croaked.

“No, of course not. I’m not a Mad Queen, after all. I intend to be just. I intend to be my father’s daughter.”

“Then what!?”

“I’m going to take this to your behind.”

“My be…” Daenerys trailed off as her eyes widened on the tassels. “Spanking!? That’s what your clever words mean, isn’t it!? You intend to _spank_ me as if I were… as if I were some misbehaving child!?!?”

“It won’t hurt much, and will leave no marks. It’s a kind punishment. You should be thanking me.”

“It’s humiliating!” 

“Then you’ll learn if you don’t want to be humiliated again.” Sansa grinned as she ran the leather through her pale fingers again and again. “Shall I place your gag back in so you have something to bite on?”

“Bring those fingers near my mouth and I’ll bite on _you_!” 

Sansa laughed. “Have it your way.” She vanished behind the pillory again.

“Now you just…” Daenerys gasped when she felt the prisoner garb she’d been given yanked down to her knees, baring her rump. Color flushed her cheeks a deep pink and she swallowed. “This is ridiculous!”

“I’m sure it’s nothing the mother of dragons cannot handle.”

Dany sneered. “When I get free of this infernal device…”

“Hold your tongue. I don’t want you biting it off by accident.”

_Crack_.

Daenerys’ mouth fell open as the small dungeon room flooded with the crisp sound of her punishment. The tassels had all at once struck her across the bottom, stinging both cheeks. Sansa hadn’t lied; it didn’t so much ‘hurt’ but it certainly was felt. And the humiliation was worse than Dany had imagined. 

“How… _dare_ you!”

_Crack_.

The whip layered across her bottom again. This time, Dany thrust herself forth involuntarily into the pillory to try and soften the blow. It stung worse than the first time and now there was something else stirring in her. Something… strange. Her throat was dry again. She opened her mouth to speak and another blow landed.

“Oohhh…” What was that!? Daenerys’ eyes shot open. She hadn’t intended to make that sound at all! She’d only just began contemplating its origin when another spank along her bottom made her close her eyes again and curl her toes and bite her lip.

“Are you… alright?” Sansa asked.

Dany hesitated. She had to be very careful right now. There was a danger in what was happening in this dungeon; one she hadn’t accounted for in her wildest dreams. “I… yes… I’m fine. Is this over? I… I wish it to be over now.”

“Do you?”

The words were so casually spoken, so brief, so meaningless, and yet… they meant everything. Daenerys’ posture ran stiff as a board and the little hairs at the back of her neck rose.

“Of course I do! This is… terrible!”

_Crack_!

This blow landed hardest of all, so hard Daenerys felt it in more than her bottom, more than her thighs, more than her hips. She felt it lower, between, inside… her hands hung limp, numb in the fingertips, and her butt, seemingly against her will, was hoisted a bit in the air. Now the color in her cheeks was for different reasons. Something had joined in with the humiliation and pain… something she detested and yet sought; hated and yet loved.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” Sansa said, circling around the pillory, examining Daenerys’ face closely. Dany wished she could hide it at the moment. “This doesn’t seem like punishment at all, does it?”

Daenerys was very quiet in response.

“I see.” Sansa knelt again, brushing back some of Dany’s hair to better look at her. The woman’s hands were impossibly soft, and her fingers so delicate and careful. They brushed Daenerys’ lip and Dany nearly kissed one before she got a hold of herself. 

“Let me out of this contraption!” 

“And where should I put you?”

“Put me…” Their eyes met and for once Dany had nothing to say.

“I think you’re going to start behaving,” Sansa said with a grin, standing tall again so Daenerys had to crane her neck to look at the woman. “I think I know just what to do with you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

Dany scowled. “Whatever you’re thinking…”

“I’m thinking quite a lot of things, actually. I’m sure you’ll learn of them soon.”

A sinking feeling landed in the pit of Daenerys’ belly. “And what does that mean?”

“You’ll see. Oh, here. One for reward.” Sansa leaned around the pillory and snapped the tassels down over Dany’s rump again, invoking a sharp intake of air from Daenerys as she whimpered and looked up helplessly. 

“I think you and I will be spending a lot of time together soon,” Sansa said, turned, and made for the door. She hesitated there and looked back. “I’ll have you out of there shortly. You’ll be put back in your tower chamber. However… if you find those quarters not to your liking, I’ll allow my guards to move you to my own. If you request it, of course.” She left and closed the door behind her.

“If I request it…” Daenerys muttered, eyes flicking wildly back and forth on the floor beneath her. What sort of thing was that to say? Why would she ever request to be put with… with… _her_!? 

And yet, something had been awoken in here just moments earlier. For once, it was not the dragon, but something else… something far more primitive. 


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days passed as slowly as days could, and Daenerys grew ever more impatient and restless atop her tower. She felt like a caged bird; stuffed away in the sky; forgotten about. The room’s window was her only comfort, and she’d go there often to gaze longingly South, wondering where Drogon was flying that day, or what Jon was doing, or what jest Tyrion might be making. She ate as much as she could, the Winterfell servants never seemed to be interested in starving her, and bathed frequently. She spent many afternoons dipped in the hottest waters they’d allow up to her chin, sulking, hating how truly imprisoned she felt.

Of information, there was little to be found. The servants that came and went with her food or her hot water for her baths said little, and even when Dany poked and prodded at them incessantly, they only spoke of their duties and inquired about how she liked the food and drink. Dany began to wonder at what might happen were she to attack one of them, or grab some little old crone and hold her hostage, refusing to release her till someone spoke to her.

It was only after many days of this treatment that she realized how foolish she’d been. This was a game. Of course it was. Sansa was doing everything in her power to make her curious and lonely and bored, knowing that sooner or later Dany would be left with no choice but to do as the woman had said. That is, to request herself removed from the tower… and placed in Sansa’s quarters instead.

Daenerys could not help a wry smile when she figured it out. It was a clever plan, the sort she might’ve hatched had she not been kidnapped. And, perhaps most clever of all, even knowing the plan made it no less effective. It was true: she wanted out. She wanted to talk to someone, see someone, stretch her legs about the castle. The only way to achieve any of that… was to play the game.

“I’d like to make a request,” she said one morning while a little crone washed her hair as she lay in a tub of steaming water. “I’d like to leave this room.”

The crone was quiet. The only sound was the squeezing of a sponge in her wrinkled hands.

“I’d like to be put in with… our Queen.” She’d nearly said ‘your Queen’ till she remembered they were likely trained to look for obedience. “The Queen told me I’d be allowed if I was on good behavior. I’ve behaved very well, haven’t I?”

The crone murmured something that sounded like an agreement. 

“Well, then… let it be known. Tell the Queen herself. I wish to be with her.”

That night, it happened. Daenerys was sprawled beside the window in the little reclining chair they’d given her, watching the stars. A rap on the door and it opened, Arya Stark stood with manacles in hand and an impatient expression. There was no reason for a fight this night. Daenerys stood quickly and made her way over, sticking out her wrists to allow herself shackled. Arya’s brow twitched dubiously, but the girl did her duty and placed her in the irons. She tied a blindfold over Daenerys’ eyes then grabbed her at the elbow and shoved her outside, and Dany went without a word of protest.

The blindfold was stripped from her eyes when they reached Sansa’s chambers again and Daenerys was pushed inside. Arya closed the door behind her and locked it. Dany frowned, glancing at her still-manacled hands and shaking them to jingle the short chain binding them. She turned and examined the room, much the same as the last time she’d been in it. The hearth was ablaze, sending a soft orange glow to coat the modest little room in its warm light. She went to it and sat to get heat on her bare feet and legs. 

She was sitting there still when the door opened later and Sansa Stark entered, tonight in a long flowing dress of emerald green, a leather vest, and heeled boots that made the tall woman ever taller. Her red hair was pulled back and three thick braids at the sides and top of her head made it very pretty. Daenerys’ eyes moved to the woman’s hands; pale hands, slender hands, but strong hands. Hands that had brought that whip down upon her behind only a few days earlier…

Sansa looked at her sitting there beside the fire only a moment before turning, but Daenerys swore she saw a smile upon the woman’s face before she had. Sansa unbuttoned the vest and tossed it aside, then sat the edge of her bed to unlace and pluck off her boots. She peeled socks off, then stood and strode barefoot to join beside Dany, presumably warming her own feet against the lashing flames.

“Shackles?” Daenerys asked as Sansa sat, tugging at her conjoined wrists.

“I think they look nice on you.”

“Nice? I can’t move like this…”

“Is that such a problem?”

Dany’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You enjoy your power over me.”

Sansa grinned and poured herself a drink from a skin of wine. She sipped it and relaxed in her seat to watch the hearth. Finally, she said, “Perhaps.”

“I’m only surprised you didn’t have me kept waiting in here gagged as well.”

“Well, the night’s still young.”

Daenerys frowned. “May I be unshackled or not…?”

Sansa sipped her drink again. “And whom are you addressing with this question?”

“…of course. My mistake. May I please be unshackled, my _Queen_? Or would you prefer ‘my Grace’?”

“You’re awfully sweet tonight, aren’t you?”

“You’ve kept me in a little room atop a tower for days on end with nothing to do but sit in a hot bath and talk to crones who won’t talk back. You knew precisely what you were doing.”

“And it’s been effective, clearly.”

Daenerys glared at her. Sansa stared back, still smiling. For a moment, only the crackling logs in the hearth made a sound. Then the Stark woman rose and fetched two things from her nightstand: a key and a gown. She first plugged the manacles with the key and removed them from Dany’s wrists, then she tossed the gown into Dany’s lap. 

“If you still detest your prisoner’s garb so much,” said Sansa with a shrug.

Dany ran the fabric through her fingers. It was impossibly light; something you’d find in Dorne, perhaps, not the frigid North. Still, the thought of getting these terrible drab leathers off her was an alluring one. She hesitated only a moment before standing and moving to the other end of the room. Checking to ensure Sansa hadn’t turned to watch, she pulled her clothing off and stood briefly naked behind the Stark woman before pulling the thin gown down over her body, head and arms slipping through the holes. It barely clung to her it was so light and Daenerys saw that the fabric didn’t leave much to imagination. If she pulled it against her breasts, she could see right through it.

“This is some clothing…” Dany said, returning to her seat.

Sansa looked her up and down. “It’s evening wear.”

“It’s cold in the North.”

“It’s warm in my bed chamber.”

To that, Daenerys couldn’t protest. The hearth did a wonderful job of making the room warm, despite the interminable chill that frosted Winterfell’s windows and froze its stone solid. She hugged her arms around herself and placed her feet back on the edge of the hearth to warm her toes.

Sansa poured her a drink and Daenerys hesitated before taking it. She sniffed at it and then took a swallow. Spiced wine, distinctly northern. She’d had some the last time she was here with Jon. It was bitter at first, but hot going down her throat, which she liked. 

“What do you intend to do with me,” Dany asked, finding a bit of courage in a few more swallows o the wine. 

“Keep you safe, of course. I said as much, haven’t I?”

“Keep me safe… is bringing me in here and dressing me in this flimsy sheet part of ‘keeping me safe’?”

Sansa sat back and her smile broadened. “What, precisely, are you insinuating?”

Her tongue felt numb as Daenerys tried to find the words. Her thoughts turned to Meereen or any other of the cities in the East of which she conquered, where powerful men kept harems of women regularly to… satisfy their needs. Was that what she was to Sansa Stark? A whore in chains? 

“Are you going to have me… pleasure you?”

Sansa laughed. “I’m not going to ‘have you’ do anything you don’t want to do yourself, Daenerys Targaryen. This is Westeros, and more importantly, this is Westeros under my brother’s new rule. There will be no ‘sex slaves’ here.”

“Yet there will be slaves?”

“No. _You_ … are an exception.”

Dany glared.

“Don’t give me that look. You should understand your predicament by now. You’re too dangerous to let go. Too important to be a mere prisoner. This is all we could come up with to ensure you aren’t either scorching the realm to ashes or being used as some political tool in a new game of thrones.”

Daenerys turned her bitter look on the fire and took a long swallow from her cup, emptying it. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, am I…?”

“No. I’m afraid you’re not.”

“And if I make to escape again?”

Sansa shrugged. “You won’t be successful. And I’ll just have to find new ways to tie you up that keeps you out of trouble. I’ll have to think of new punishments, though, considering how you reacted-”

“I was tired and starved!” Daenerys interjected, snapping her head around to face the woman with barred teeth. “And, and confused! That was all! I don’t… you should think nothing, _nothing_ , of anything that… that you…”

“You weren’t tired, and you certainly weren’t starved. You’ve been eating everything we’ve given you and the milk of the poppy, my servants inform me, has been putting you out for the whole night.”

Dany clutched the gown Sansa’s given her to her chest and leaned back.

“Well, there’s no other reason for how I acted!”

“Sure there is. You’ve been forced into a position of power for so long, when someone finally came and took that power from you, I’m sure it was of great relief.” Sansa’s pretty eyes moved up and down Dany slowly, examining her from head to toe.

Dany folded her arms over her chest and pressed her knees together, feeling suddenly vulnerable under the woman’s icy gaze. 

“Stop looking at me that way…”

“Would you prefer I put you back in your tower?”

“I’d prefer…” What? Dany could not find a suitable answer, so she settled on one she deemed good enough. “I’d prefer to get some sleep now. It’s… late.”

“Go lay down then. I’ll bind you.”

“ _Bind_ me!?”

“Only lightly. You’re still dangerous.”

Daenerys huffed and momentarily considered refusing. But there was something about Sansa’s eyes, the way they pierced into you, that made her think ill of that idea. She rose and stormed to the bed, throwing herself down atop it and muttering, “Ridiculous…”

Sansa joined her and fetched white ropes of some soft material to bind her with. She tied Dany’s feet together, then made a light binding on her wrists with her hands folded on her belly. Daenerys wiggled, testing them, finding them loose but secure somehow at the same time. 

Sansa laid on the bed beside her, propping herself up at the elbow to look down at Daenerys’ bound form. 

“Am I expected to find sleep with you looking at me like that!?”

Sansa laughed and shook her head. The woman rose and went to the hearth and Dany watched from atop the bed as the Stark Queen’s tall figure disrobed and became all flesh and curves. Sansa’s behind was heart-shaped and pale. Her shoulders were rounded and soft-looking. She bent and used a bellows to put out the fire and when she stood again the room was dark and moonlit. Sansa turned and Dany could make out the shadowed outline of her breasts for only a moment before the woman slipped into bed and under the covers. 

Daenerys’ heart was pounding impossibly loud. Would Sansa hear it? Would the woman accuse her again of enjoying this powerlessness she’d found herself in? Would she demand Dany confess that the night after Sansa had spanked her, she found herself in the tower alone and asked for a hot bath so that she could slide her hands down her tummy under the waters and so that her fingers could inch along her thighs, reaching within, and then how she…

No. Of course not. No one knew of that except Dany herself. She swallowed and laid very still, and as the room cooled with the fire out, she wiggled around until she could get herself under the covers beside Sansa. 

It was a long while before she slept, and when she did she dreamt of a forest and a great pale wolf with long red hair that chased her through the trees before pinning her down and claiming her for its own.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days passed routinely. Daenerys wasn’t sure how to speak or act around this Stark woman, this Queen of the North who’d caused her to experience such a range of emotions and thoughts. She mostly kept quiet, waking in the mornings to find Sansa had already set off to do… well, whatever it was a Queen in Winterfell did. Dany’s own mornings, before she’d been made a prisoner, were filled with endless meetings and discussions and ravens brining news and requests and… it all made her head spin just to think of. The relief of her royal ‘duties’ was certainly a welcome part of her captivity. 

In the evenings she was permitted fur-lined boots and two burly Stark guards so that she may traipse about the castle grounds and stretch her legs. The North was cold in the mornings, less so midday, and brutal as night fell, so Dany requested her walks when the sun was high and some of the chill went out of the air. By nights, she was drawn hot baths and given food and wine and by the time she’d finish, that’s when Sansa Stark would come back around. Daenerys made light conversation, asking about her day and news from the South, but mostly she kept quiet and let Sansa do the talking. 

When it was time for bed, Sansa bound her hand and foot as she had the first night, but only lightly so as to permit her some small movements in order to get comfortable. Lately, she’d taken to bundling her up in sheets as well, tucking here and there and wrapping her tight. Whether that was to keep her still or to keep her warm, Dany couldn’t be sure. 

It wasn’t until a half dozen nights or so passed that Sansa came with a piece of parchment for her and a grave look on the woman’s face. She held it out as Daenerys sat sprawled in her chair beside the hearth and Dany took it curiously, smoothing it down on her own bare thigh.

It was from Jon.

For a moment, her heart was in her throat as she sat straight and brushed her long hair behind her ears. She angled the parchment to the fire to better see the words and smiled broadly as she read. But word after word slowly faded the expression from her eyes, then her lips, then her entire posture. She sunk into the chair and glared at the flames.

“It’s only politics,” Sansa said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Daenerys shrugged the gesture away and turned her fuming look up at the woman. She could suddenly only think of this Stark Queen as the sister of Jon. The two of them, brother and sister… she hated them equally. Her eyes turned once more to the letter, as if hoping she’d misread, and when the words remained the same, Dany crumbled it and threw it into the fire. Jon was betrothed. He was marrying some Greyjoy woman who’d crowned herself Queen of the Iron Islands in order to secure their alliance. It was the last bit of war winding down, and now the marriage pacts would be made and men and women would be used as leverage in order to win peace. Jon had thrown her away for the realm twice now. Twice.

“Are you alright?”

Dany looked at Sansa again. “…a part of me always hoped he’d come for me. Talk sense into you and your brash little sister. Take me away from here so I could sit my rightful throne. I suppose… I was a fool to believe that.”

Sansa held her shoulder again and this time Dany didn’t feel she had the strength to remove it. 

“I had nothing when I first set out on my quest for my birthright, my throne,” Daenerys went on. “No one could’ve believed I’d have achieved so much. And yet I did. And here I am again with nothing… perhaps I’ll just conquer the world over again and take it all back.”

“Ambitious.”

Dany scowled. “Don’t patronize me.”

Sansa grinned. 

“You doubt me?” Dany asked.

“I don’t doubt your passion, your drive, your cleverness. No. I doubt you’ll be able to start anew and do it all over again, however.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my prisoner this time, and I won’t let you go.”

Daenerys rose from her seat, not sure of what she was intending. Her hands were up, perhaps to grab at that impossibly perfect hair of Sansa Stark’s, but Sansa was a tad quicker and caught her wrists tight in her own grip and held her still.

“Let me go!”

“Shush. You’re acting like a child again. How did someone so immature manage to accomplish so much anyway?”

“Arrgh!” Daenerys barred her teeth and threw her weight forward. It was enough to walk Sansa back a few steps from the hearth, but just when she thought she was likely to overpower the woman, Sansa snapped her hips sideways and used Dany’s own momentum to throw her onto the bed. Daenerys rolled but caught herself and leaped up to lunge at Sansa again. She wanted to hurt her, and not just her, she wanted to hurt every Stark and every Snow that was related to them. She wanted them to feel used and discarded and alone like she felt.

Sansa was taller, more composed, and a better fighter however. Every move or attack Daenerys tried, Sansa countered or blocked, until finally Dany was thrown down on her belly and Sansa’s knee drove into the small of her back to keep her there.

“You’re more like a wildling than a Queen!” Sansa shouted, wrestling to keep her down.

Daenerys writhed and twisted, hands curled into claws. Her desire to hurt someone was as strong as ever.

“Calm yourself,” Sansa demanded. Dany felt her gown hiked up so her bottom came exposed, then a firm cool hand landed atop it in a crisp smack.

“Oh!” Dany wailed, mouth gaping incredulously as she went still. “How… _dare_ you!”

“I’ll do it again if you don’t behave yourself.”

Daenerys tried twisting herself around to hide her vulnerable rump when Sansa forced her still and laid another spank across both her bare cheeks. Dany whined this time and felt that familiar stir between her thighs.

“Are you calm?”

“Yes! _Yes!_ ” 

“Shall I bind you or are you going to lay there and keep quiet?”

“Just… leave me alone!”

To her surprise, Sansa dismounted. Dany scrambled to the far end of the bed to curl up amidst the pillows. She yanked the sheets with her and drew them around herself protectively, glaring at her spanker and seeing only Jon in her.

“I… hate him,” Dany croaked.

“Jon?”

She nodded.

Sansa sighed. “You’re still not of sound mind. You don’t hate Jon. You… perhaps hate how this has all turned out. But not Jon. He’s one of the last decent men in the realm.”

“So decent he’s forsaken the Queen he swore himself to to bed and marry some whore from the seas?”

“…yes. That decent.”

Dany opened her mouth then closed it again. What a fool she was. She’d just made Sansa’s point for her. Perhaps she really wasn’t of sound mind as they kept, infuriatingly, telling her. Still, the thought of Jon in bed with another woman… he made her skin hot and itchy and her belly ache with some deep pain. She sat, mulling on it till vengeance burned in her heart. Her eyes lifted and found Sansa and then realization quelled some of her inner flame.

“You desire me,” Daenerys said, eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t deny it. You desire me, and… well, a part of me I suppose desires you. So let’s be adults about this.” Dany smoothed the sheets beside her. “And fulfill both our desires right now.”

One of Sansa’s finely groomed eyebrows lifted in a bemused expression. She folded her arms to her chest and shook her head. “You’re something, aren’t you?”

“Oh, don’t try that,” Dany growled. “You’ve been working at me since you stole me. Dominating me… moving me to your bed chambers. Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

“I wanted to help you.”

“Help me? By binding me in your bloody _bed chamber_ every night!?”

“I thought you needed a friend. You’ve lost… so much.”

“I’ve lost much. You’re right about that. Now I want to gain something. So undress and come.”

Sansa, however, merely stood her ground. “And do you think this might have something to do with that letter you just burned?”

Dany shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. What difference does it make? I’m offering you my body, you foolish bitch.”

“You’re offering to use me as some sort of…” Sansa grimaced. “Some tool of your own revenge. To hurt Jon, I suppose. That’s not an appealing offer.”

“Are you truly going to stand there and refuse me?” Daenerys managed a bitter smile of shock. In a flash of inspiration, she grabbed at the hem of her gown and tore it upwards. The thin fabric vaulted up and over her head, baring her entire body. Dany tossed the clothing to the floor and knelt to show herself off. “I told you what I want.”

“And I’m telling you ‘no’.” Sansa’s eyes moved up and down the length of Daenerys’ nudity, but only a look of disappointment sat in them. “Not like this. This is… pathetic.”

“You… whore!” Dany crawled off the bed and stood naked beside the hearth, glowering at Sansa. “All these games you’ve been playing, working at obtaining me… and now I offer myself to you and you deny me. You’re just as twisted as your younger sister.”

“Put your clothing back on.”

“Put it on me yourself.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“What’ve I got to lose now!?” Daenerys erupted, throwing her arms out. “You think embarrassment troubles me? I’ve no throne! No kingdom! No Jon! No Tyrion, no Grey Worm, no Jorah, no Dothraki, no Unsullied… I have nothing! Nothing but the desire to be fucked hard right now by the icy cunt of a Queen who’s captured me, and even THAT I am being denied!”

Sansa was quiet then for a long moment. Her brow was creased pensively as her jaw worked in subtle motion, as if grinding her teeth. Those bright eyes examined Daenerys up and down. Then, finally, she spoke.

“On the morrow, then. If you have a night of sleep and a full breakfast in your stomach and tomorrow you _still_ desire the things you claim you do… then I’ll oblige you.”

Daenerys was silent, fuming, agitated. She felt all pent up, ready to explode.

“I’ll sleep in my parent’s old chambers tonight. You can stay here alone.” Sansa moved to the door. “I think you’re going to feel quite ashamed by dawn, however.”

“Take me now, or I’ll never give you the chance again,” Daenerys stated plainly, nostrils flaring.

But Sansa didn’t respond, she only slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her and Daenerys heard the heavy locks fall into place, sealing her within. 

With a grunt, she threw herself onto the bed and lay flat, staring up at the ceiling. Naked, alone, furious. One small letter and Dany’s whole world had been spun in circles. She wanted Sansa back in there with her. She wanted that hand on her bottom and… more now. So much more. And she wanted Jon to know everything that took place between them.

Subdued for now, Dany forced herself calm. But one way or another, sooner or later, she was going to get exactly what she wanted.

 


	9. Chapter 9

It was as Sansa said it would be. In the days after her outburst, Daenerys deeply regretted the words she’d said, the actions she’d taken. She had made a fool of herself, acting not only like a petulant child, but as a whore too. She’d spread her legs on a whim and pouted and stamped her feet and it had gotten her nothing but a profound remorse that haunted her every step inside Winterfell castle now. 

Her only solace was that Sansa, the only witness to her embarrassment, did not seem to have remembered it ever taking place. The woman never spoke a word of the night, never teased her of it, and as far as Dany knew, never uttered a word of it to anyone else. It seemed Sansa Stark was perfectly content to keep Dany’s humiliation a secret between them, and despite the anger which still coursed hotly through her body for Jon and the Stark family in general, Daenerys could no longer deny some of the other feelings that’d awoken in her for the Queen of the North.

She was grateful for Sansa’s silence on the matter of her outburst. She admired the woman’s poise and leadership. She felt inspired by her kindness. And, yes, there was no sense denying it any longer… Daenerys had grown attracted to the woman. Each night when she came to the bed chambers, Dany’s eyes surveyed her as she undressed. Sansa was tall but not masculine in the slightest. She had a strong jaw and perfect lips. Her hair was impossibly soft and smelled of flowers. And in the moments after she’d bellowed the hearth at night and stalked naked to the bed, her breasts and the shadow between her pale legs thrilled Dany in ways she hadn’t felt since… well, since her Khal, she supposed. 

“I owe you apology,” Dany croaked one night as Sansa returned from a day of Queenly duty, she was sure. 

“Do you?” Was all Sansa said, and she turned to Dany with such a soft and reassuring smile, Daenerys knew no other words needed saying.

The night after that when Sansa came to bed, Daenerys rose from her chair where she’d been reading a book and helped undress the Queen. Sansa accepted this help without a word of protest, and was quiet still when Dany stood behind her at the hearth and began massaging her shoulders as they talked of Sansa’s day and of news from the realm. The war had truly ended. Jon was married, the Iron Islands won to allegiance. A small matter in Dorn remained, but all signs were hopeful it would be dealt with soon. There was peace, true peace. It’d been so long since Dany started her campaign of wars and treacheries, she hardly believed the day might ever come. It put her at ease.

One night not long after she’d started putting her hands on Sansa’s shoulders, Sansa’s own hand came up and took her by the wrist, pulling her around the chair and sitting her there beside the hearth. Sansa rubbed Dany’s back and shoulders now, and brushed her hair after. The next morning, a hot bath was drawn and the two women looked at one another, tacitly having a conversation within each other’s eyes. Sansa stepped naked into the waters… and Daenerys followed. She perched between the woman’s long legs and it was in that manner they bathed. 

Now Sansa was spending more and more of her day within the chamber. She’d make little stops throughout the morning to converse with Dany and sometimes share a bit of breakfast. In the afternoons, she aired her grievances about meetings with other northern houses and the lands and marriages they wanted and did not want. Dany smiled coyly and listened; she did not envy Sansa’s position as Queen of the North. She knew from her own time as a Queen how grating the proceedings could get.

At nights, Daenerys was no longer bound. Instead of ropes to contain her, Sansa had taken to putting an arm around her bare shoulders and pulling her close, especially when the icy winds beyond Winterfell’s walls were howling. Dany was more than happy to snuggle into the warmth of the Queen, and began having full and restful nights sleep once again. If she woke, it was only to feel Sansa fidgeting and readjusting her position, but never releasing Dany from her embrace. 

Things grew more and more pleasant at Winterfell, and appeared to be continuing in that direction without end, until one afternoon when the door to the bed chambers opened and it was not Sansa Stark framed there, but Arya Stark. The short, darkly clothed, woman bothered with none of her older sister’s manners or grace. She was the opposite, the shadow of Sansa, and when she kicked the door shut behind her, her expression was all business.

“What are you doing to my sister?”

The question was so unexpected, Dany only blinked.

“Well?”

“I… what do you mean by that?”

Arya’s look hardened. “You’re doing something. Don’t play that you’re innocent. Sansa is a Queen, Queen of the _North_ , in fact, and yet she’s spending less time ruling and more time in here with _you_ every day. And she’s… lost her edge.” Arya grit her teeth and pointed a gloved hand forward. “So tell me what you’re _doing_!”

“I’m not doing anything! I’ve finally started getting along with your sister a bit, is all, and…”

“And you’re playing some game to soften her, to lower her guard so that you might be returned to your army and your dragon and your precious throne!”

Dany’s brow furrowed and she shook her head, but before she could speak Arya was plowing on.

“You think you’re clever? You warred and conquered your way across the Narrow Sea and built an army of loyal warriors and servants. You’re not some sweet innocent girl. You’re a manipulative shrew with a pet dragon I’m sure you’d love to turn on Winterfell.”

“This is-” Dany began till she was interjected again.

“I won’t let Bran’s vision come true. Sansa might not see you for what you are, but I do. I smuggled you into this castle. I can smuggle you right back out. There are other places in the North you can be… stored.”

“I’ve done nothing! You kidnapped me! You’re the one who brought me here! How can you accuse me of treachery when I’m here as captive!?”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “Go back to your tower. I don’t care how you get Sansa to do it, but I want it done. You’ve gotten close enough to my sister. You’re a Targaryen… you don’t belong with a Stark. You don’t belong in Westeros for that matter.” 

Arya didn’t wait for a reply. The girl spun and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it.

For a few moments, Daenerys could only sit and gape at the backside of that door. The Stark girl’s accusations were so quick and heavy, she had to recall them in her head to even make sense of it all. Slowly, her confusion rose to anger, and Dany threw the sheets away from her and stomped around the room with her fists clenched. It wasn’t enough to bind her, to steal her, to subdue and enslave her… now she was accused of plotting and scheming things that hadn’t even crossed her mind! She kicked over a wooden stool and watched it splinter against the stone floor. 

What was she to tell Sansa? If she confessed that Arya had been in here, warning and threatening her, would Sansa even believe her? Or would it simply earn her yet _another_ Stark’s suspicions, thinking her scheming one sister against the next? She couldn’t tell the truth, but she also couldn’t lie. She couldn’t befriend Sansa any further, apparently, but she also couldn’t make an enemy of the woman, lest she end up back in the dungeons. There was no answers. It was maddening, impossible to solve. Dany paced about the room, turning ideas over and over in her head, and her anger persisted all that afternoon till the door opened again and it was Sansa there now, coming to bed. The woman’s eyes went first to the splintered and fallen stool, then to Dany’s face.

“What’s happened?”

Daenerys opened her mouth and closed it again. She pursed her lips and shook her head and then finally croaked, “Nothing.”

Sansa’s brow lifted. “Nothing?”

“I… I had a moment of… frustration.”

“Over…?”

“What does it matter?” Dany snapped. “I’m your prisoner here, aren’t I? Do my frustrations really matter all that much to you, or to anyone?”

Sansa blinked, putting up her hands. “I was only asking if-”

“Well don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re acting very strange,” said Sansa, her gaze examining Dany head to toe as if in search of the answers there. “I thought we were starting to get along. To perhaps become… friends. Of a sort.”

“Friends with my captor. Lucky me.” Dany folded her arms to her chest and tightened her jaw. “I’m your slave. Have you forgotten? Is it fitting for a Queen to befriend her slave?”

Sansa, apparently tiring of the conversation, simply shook her head and moved past Dany into the room, muttering, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You’re a Queen, Sansa. Queen’s are supposed to have answers for everything and for everyone. Didn’t you know that? I was a Queen once. Now I’m a slave. I suppose you’re aware of that, of course. Still, as a Queen yourself, surely you should be-”

“Be _silent_!” Sansa snapped, looking up from her seat where she was removing her boots.

Daenerys was momentarily subdued. She had never really provoked the woman’s ire. It took her a moment to collect herself for another attack.

“How long am I to be kept here?”

“Kept _where_?”

“Here. In this bloody chamber. In this castle. In the North. I’m tired of it all.”

“And I’m tired of your mouth. Keep it closed.”

Dany’s nostrils flared with indignation. “Is that an order to your _slave_?”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I don’t care for it at all.” Sansa tossed her boots aside and rose to her feet, narrowing a hard look across the room at Dany. “So just be quiet and go to sleep. Or should I have you moved back to the tower so you can be alone?”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Perhaps I will!”

“Get some serving wench in here to brush your hair and rub your shoulders and feet each night!”

Sansa threw up her hands. “What is the matter with you!?”

“I’m a Targaryen,” Daenerys growled. “We don’t belong with Starks.”

Sansa had, clearly, heard enough. With a stomp of her foot, she marched forward. Dany thought she meant to strike her, but all the woman did was take her by the wrist and lead her to bedside to shove down atop it. Daenerys protested and squirmed, but Sansa simply caught her wrists, lashed them together with a rope, and bound her hands to the headboard, subduing Daenerys’ thrashing. Dany had no chance to voice her displeasure. Sansa fetched a cloth and roughly gagged her mouth with it, yanking it between her teeth and tying it off tight behind her head.

Daenerys’ pale skin flushed bright red as she writhed and grunted, but the binds had secured her too firmly to do much else.

“Lay there and sleep, or I’ll fetch a maester to force some milk of the poppy on you,” Sansa instructed, unbuttoning the top of her dress. “You’re positively mad tonight!”

Mad. There was that word again. Mad, mad, mad… the Mad Queen. Dany’s teeth sunk into her gag and she glared daggers at her captor. Mad Queen. Mad Queen. She hated that title as much as anything.

Sansa undressed and put out the fire and crawled into bed beside Daenerys. Dany was left bound and humiliated like that all night. Her thoughts were clear now. Arya wouldn’t let her and Sansa ever grow close, and Sansa would never allow her anything else. The Stark sisters would tear her apart… unless she escaped…

…and soon. 


	10. Chapter 10

By the next morning, Daenerys had come to her senses again. She hated how unpredictable her mood had grown as of late… from the time when Jorah first fell defending her against the undead to now, the events blurred and twisted in her mind. It had all been so much and filled with so many losses and unexpected turns. She knew she’d gotten a bit… capricious. Perhaps a bit ‘Mad’ even, yes, as much as the word pained her. And, perhaps, Brandon Stark was right about her, and his prediction may have come to pass had Dany not been stolen in the night. Anything was possible in these uncertain days and long hours. But a night’s rest had done her mind good, and Dany was ready to apologize to her captor and try to mend the damage she’d surely caused.

Of course, that wasn’t easy considering she woke still bound and gagged. It must’ve been early, for Sansa was still in the chamber herself, slipping stockings up her long legs as a servant girl braided and combed her fiery red hair. 

Dany looked at her and chewed the gag impatiently.

Sansa’s own look found her, but there was little comfort in it. “I’m having you returned to your tower. It’s… clearly what you want.”

“Mnf,” Dany grunted, lips squirming as she shook her head.

“I won’t hear any more of your accusations and cruelties on this morning,” Sansa retorted. “I have a meeting with all the heads of the northern families, and I can’t have my mood spoiled so prematurely.”

Daenerys sat up and tugged at her bound hands. “Mnf!”

With a glance to her servant, Sansa ordered the girl to get her sister. That was the last thing Daenerys wanted to hear. She began shaking her head more fervently and kicking her feet about, sending the sheets sailing. Sansa looked upon her with something that must’ve been pity as the woman turned away with a shake of her head. 

Then the servant returned, and Arya Stark stood waiting in the doorway. She wore a satisfied little expression as Dany was untethered from the bed, still bound at her wrists, and ushered forth into the younger Stark’s waiting hand. Arya tugged her hard to get her moving and kicked the door shut behind them. Dany looked back and met Sansa’s eyes one last fleeting time before they took the corner and the woman vanished.

“I didn’t expect you to act so quickly,” said Arya as she marched them with haste through the castle grounds. “Maybe you’re not a complete fool, after all.”

Daenerys glared at her and grunted a reply.

“Either way, it’s for the best. Sansa can keep her head where it belongs, on ruling the North, and you… well, you can just be stashed away quietly at the top of your tower. You’ll be safe and, more importantly, forgotten.”

_Forgotten_. Dany winced. The ropes on her wrists felt suddenly far too tight. She glanced to Arya and tried to communicate her trepidation with her eyes alone, but the girl didn’t seem much interested. Her arm was tugged on, forcing her feet to keep moving, and it was in that manner the trek through Winterfell passed. 

At the tower chamber, Daenerys was shoved inside and Arya waited at the door, gesturing to two little crones who’d been waiting. Together, the trio entered the room and Arya directed them to Dany’s sides. Dany watched warily as they approached her and unbound her wrists. They carried with them a coat of sorts… a coat with straps upon it. 

“Since you tried to escape the last time, I had the maesters design something to contain you more securely. Stay still while you’re subdued.”

Daenerys eyes widened as she saw now that the coat the crones carried had no holes at the ends of their sleeves. In fact, the sleeves has been sewn up shut. She shook her head and writhed in their grip, but in her weakened state even two little women could restrain her. They slipped her hands in the sleeves and wound each around her body in opposite directions. The results left Daenerys ‘hugging’ herself, in a sense, and then the coat was fastened and strapped and buckled behind her. Her upper body was rendered immobile completely.

“It’s said they use such restraints when a man comes back from battle without a sense left in his broken mind,” Arya explained with a surveying look. “I think it… _fitting_ , for you then.”

Daenerys jerked her arms from side to side but the coat held her tight within its firm grasp. She glared at Arya, knowing this was some cruel punishment designed to further penalize her for garnering Sansa’s affection. 

Arya snorted and paced forward to yank the gag from her mouth.

“You can’t keep me like this,” Daenerys pleaded, thrashing her torso from side to side, the coat holding her captive regardless. “There’s nothing wrong with my mind!”

“Not according to my sister.”

Dany recoiled as if struck. “S… Sansa ordered this herself?”

“Of course. You think such power lies in _my_ grasp? Sansa’s the Queen. I’m just… the shadow.” 

Daenerys stopped fighting the restraints and sat herself still, staring dejectedly at the wall before her. Had her own volatility finally turned the elder Stark sister against her? She’d said such cruel things the previous night. It wasn’t unlikely. She raised her eyes to ask that very question of Arya, but only the closed door greeted them. She was alone. On bare feet she rose and walked to the door to call into the hall, but no voice called back. She kicked at it, hurting her toes, but silence came the reply again. At the window, Dany gazed longingly down upon the castle grounds where just a day or so ago, Sansa had walked alongside her. And now she’d thrown all that away, and her thoughts could only linger once more on some inevitable escape; as _improbable_ as it may seem. 

For a long while she fidgeted with her restraining coat. The crones had done too good a job for her to accomplish much, however. It’s hold was firm, secure, and Daenerys knew before long there was no escaping the thing without aid. She lay atop the bed and stared at the vaulted ceiling. 

“Drogon, come,” she whispered. In her mind, the mighty dragon heard those soft words and turned his leathery black wings crisply for the North, and for her rescue. Daenerys doubted, however, the reality of that scenario. Drogon could, apparently, be controlled by Brandon Stark regardless. It rendered her one ally of formidable aid utterly useless. 

Restless with vexation, Dany tossed and turned atop the bed, finding comfort impossible to achieve till finally she grew so worn downand tired, sleep found her against her own will. She slept in fits for most of the day and lay anguished for most of the night till she drifted again into a bout of dreams. They were strange and dark and all the familiar faces of the men and women she cared for and who cared for her were lost in all that darkness. She was alone, it seemed, even in her dreams.

She woke alone and broke her fast alone and was released of the restraint coat only long enough to bath alone before being paced back in it. The day moved infuriatingly slow from then on and Daenerys could hardly find the patience to sit or stand still in any one position. She most often went to the window and stared vacantly into the clouds, wishing she were anywhere else.

Then the door opened and Sansa Stark stood in the chamber.

“Sansa…” Daenerys breathed and padded across the room before she knew what she was doing. So grateful a feeling swelled in her bosom, she simply threw herself at the woman. Sansa, startled, caught her in her long arms and embraced her.

“Shhh,” Sansa hushed her as Daenerys trembled. “It’s alright. What’s happened?”

“Your sister… your sister threatened me… that’s why I was so terrible to you… please… I can’t be kept here alone any longer… I need you…”

“Shh,” Sansa continued, now stroking her hair and squeezing her a bit tighter. “Arya threatened you? For what reason?”

Then Dany explained everything in a long and unbroken confessional. She talked till her voice was hoarse. She told of Arya’s conversation with her and of her feelings and her dreams, she even dared to speak of her _sexual_ desires towards Sansa, and by the time she’d finished she was both humiliated at speaking so much and greatly relieved for the same reason. Sansa, stoic as usual, simply held her and listened without daring to interrupt. Then the woman brought her at arm’s length so they could peer into one another’s eyes.

“I will protect you… if you allow me to,” Sansa said.

Daenerys’ breath trembled in her throat. She nodded.

The coat was removed from her body so that Dany could throw her freed arms around Sansa’s torso and squeeze and Sansa could kiss the top of her head and squeeze back. They stood like that a long moment, content in one another’s warmth. It wasn’t until Dany dared a look over Sansa’s shoulder that she saw a third had joined the company. In the hall outside, Arya Stark glared at the scene housed within. Dany blinked and the young woman was gone just as quick.

“You have to keep me with you,” Daenerys croaked, clutching to Sansa as if she might float away. “At all times. I’ll behave. I’ll be… whatever you need me to be.”

“Alright. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you… thank you, Sansa.”

Then she was kissing the woman. Dany wasn’t sure how it happened nor whom had started it, only that one moment their lips were far apart and the next they were pressed together. Sansa’s taste was sweet. Lips parted and tongues even briefly met. Hands were moving now, gripping at hips or touching lightly at cheeks. It was as if two bodies had merged into one and only once they parted did either woman seem to come to her senses.

Daenerys flushed and touched her lips.

Sansa swallowed but remained as composed as one could.

Neither spoke for a dreadfully long moment, then Sansa extended her arm and reached out a hand. “Come,” she commanded with a wiggle of her fingers, prompting Dany to take hold of her. “You won’t spend another night alone while you’re in this castle. You have my word.”

Daenerys obliged the command wordlessly. She allowed herself to be ushered out of the room and steered back to where she belonged. Her eyes, though, warily kept vigil in every shadowed corner of Winterfell for the other Stark girl… the one who surely hadn’t liked what she saw, and who at this very moment was likely plotting some scheme or another to break it apart. 

Dany squeezed Sansa’s hand tight. Her own will would just have to be stronger. 

 


End file.
